Here’s a picture of a person I never got to meet in the physical world. But it’s like I’ve known her my whole life. That’s how it feels to be adopted. Having people tell you who you are. Names. Dates. Items of interest that were not of interest become at the forefront of an adopted child’s interest. but back in the back of our minds are our ancestors that we are naturally connected too. That’s where it all gets twisted up. Defying who you are all say cuz that’s what folks seem to want you to do for them. I mean to hell with me.
I just watched a reading. The woman kept saying Aries in the chart. Someone’s got Aires in their chart. And a woman guides you. She said a lot of other stuff. But this stuck out to me. Because for me? It’s means Gran grans calling. She’s the woman who watches over me. Not so much Grama Roush. Not that’s she not watching. But Gran Gran does have the lead role. It all makes sense. Because she’s an Aries. Ha ha. Who else to guide me but a creative woman? Helping me. Snip all the stitches. So we can sew one better.
She’s an excellent seamstress. And a hell of a prayer warrior for the whole family. She’s prayed over us all and even those not born yet in all directions of time. She prayed. And done bring a mess to Gran Gran unless you’re ready to fix it. Don’t waste her time. Her time is her money. Honey. And Gran grams can and do watch over us. Teaching us how to keep it going and to watch over each other and not just ourselves. Her places wasn’t the ant hill for no reason? She made that hill for aunts. Safe space for woman. Why Mama. Never went to Gran Gran I’ll never know?
She always remembered me in her prayers and forever kept the link open even after her bodies death. Maybe people just haven’t gotten to this level of existence? How to manifest your best life and after the world has been taking all the cookies out of your cookie jar 101. Gran Gran is my go too. Even if we did not call each other by name I know her spirit when she’s calling me. I can feel her presence. Does no one do this? I feel Mamas presents. When she thinks of me. I’m thinking of her.
My Mama can try to hide in a closet and manifest. That’s fine. She can just read about me then. While she waits in a prayer closet for god and her daughters been trying to get her out of the closet for years. Let’s pray in a field of flowers Mama? She’s says without quotation marks. Who is she talking to now? Her Mama? Who? She’s talking to her Mama? She does that. She’s adopted. But she talks to her other Mama no one sees. But she’s not crazy. She’s just got a complicated life story and lots of characters.
Yeah. That’s my great granny right there. I see prices of Victoria there. That look. She’s got that look down pat. She’s creative like her too.
When I looked this up it was like Gran Gran was telling me about her. Especially the strength. As if to remind me who’s helping. Saying trust me darling. I know your Mama like the back forty and more. I raised her Mama. We got this in the bag honey. They know me darling. They’ll know it’s me. Just type what I tell you dear. Sounds like a grandma too me? She cares still. And folks don’t even think about all her prayers for them when there we not even alive. She prayed. Her daughter prayers. Her daughter prays. And her daughter. This one. Prays. And is connected to her ancestors.
Why would anyone deny that ability? Makes no sense to me. Take all the gifts! There are plenty to choose from and we can have them all. But we must exercise them to keep them. People don’t think about that? Well I used too? Yeah. You stopped somewhere along the way. Stopped believing in connections.
I’m connected to a family of strangers. But I’m connected to a family of origins that’s now treats me like the stranger. So it’s like you must verify your intentions to now be accrued back into the club god places you. Which is insane. But that’s what’s happening. As I break it down for the family. Starting or denying. Lost in their own head spaces unable to expand into mine. To self absorbed. To small minded. Mine got stretched the hell out guys. You don’t like it? Tell Mama. Not me.